Lucius
by TheseBrokenWings
Summary: On hold, probably permenantly. Lucius sits in prison, thinking back on his life. TomLucius, implied HarryDraco. Slightly AU, but only in the fact that Tom and Lucius weren't really in school together. Otherwise, everything will be canon.


I have too many fics in progress…ah, well.

Lucius

Chapter 1

I would be an entirely different man, now, if he wasn't so goddamn handsome. How could I be expected to resist that confidant smile, those dark eyes which seemed to swallow you whole? How could I, who was raised for beauty, suckled on it, be expected to turn from he, who was beautiful, even before his power shone from him like the light of the full moon?

Tom was a fifth year when I started at Hogwarts, and to this day I don't know why it was me he approached. Yes, I still call him Tom. He will always be Tom to me, in my head, and on this parchment which none shall see, though to his face I could never call him anything but Lord Voldemort. He was Lord Voldemort even then, but only to his closest friends… well, I suppose they couldn't really be called his friends. They were mere followers, he did not confide in them, as he did in me, he did not trust them, he did not love them. No, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard since Salazar Slytherin did not love them, though they were older, more experienced. Prefect, top of his class… He chose me, a mere first year. My Malfoy blood wants to proclaim, well, of course he did! I was a Malfoy! The most noble, oldest, pureblood family, well known for its power… But I know that wasn't really the case. Tom cared about that, certainly, but before he even knew my name, he was at my side, pulling me, soaking wet, out of the tiny boat I had been forced to navigate across the lake alone, the other three students being mudblood soon-to-be Hufflepuffs, to terrified to do much good. It was pouring. The boat had crashed into the shore, nearly capsizing, and as I turned to hiss a curse at the others, a hand reached down toward me, stretching out from a figure standing at the water's edge, his face hidden. I am ashamed to say that I almost shrank from Tom on that day, thinking in my haste that it was a dementor reaching out for me… I had never come before one, you see, I had only seen pictures… and on that night, framed by lighting and darkness, his hand pale, he looked like those pictures… It seems ludicrous to me, now that I am surrounded always by the few Dementors stupid enough not to leave and serve my lord… But my reservations vanished when he threw off his hood. He looked down at me, smiling that unique smile of his, that, although I did not know it then, was reserved solely for me, a wide, happy smile, quite unlike the thin, snake-like one we are familiar with now… He muttered a quick charm, and the rain stopped, as if a bubble had encompassed the two of us alone.

"Well, come on, you'll miss the sorting if you don't hurry up, won't you?" He asked, shaking his already extending hand at me. I reached up, and took it. Tom pulled me to him, chuckling as I stumbled, my first step onto the Hogwarts grounds, falling against him. I struggled up, failing miserably in this attempt as the mudbloods scrambled past us. Tom shot them a scathing look, then, turning back to me, held me up at arms length. "Budge off, you're getting me wet," He told me, turning away. I ran to keep up with him, the waterproof bubble shrouding us so closely that I clung to the tails of his robes to keep inside the warmth.

That was the very beginning of our relationship, and I suppose this is the end. He had forsaken me, thrown me away into Azkaban along with the few other Death Eaters who failed him, and still live. He will not rescue me; he will not come after me. I would much rather he had killed me; if I had died at his hands then I would have known that I mattered to him, still, even if in some very small way. I always wanted so very much to matter to him.

From that first day, we were inseparable. Though I had known that, as a Malfoy, I was bound to be sorted into Slytherin, still, my heart leaped when the hat announced my house, and I made my way over to the Slytherin table, to see him beaming at me, this beautiful boy whose name I didn't even know.

As a Malfoy, it makes perfect sense that I was attracted to him. He radiated power, and beauty, the two traits we are taught to revere above all others. He was perfect; I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on him. So what did it matter that I didn't know his name, or who he was? Didn't know that he was a half-blood, didn't know about his ambitions, his future… We were connected already. From the very beginning, I would have died for him, as I would now.

I shouldn't be writing this. I want to hurt myself, like a house elf revealing his family's secrets. But I do not know how I could hurt any more than I already do. Besides, who is there to read my last confessions? The Dementors have no eyes, and if whoever occupies my cell after I waste away to nothing reads it, well then, so be it. Who will they tell? This is not a place you leave. There are other cells, nicer ones, for people who are to be released one day. I will not be. I will be here forever.

I think, maybe, that I am going insane. I feel as if my thoughts are surging into one, becoming convoluted a mass. And yet, I see my life more clearly now then I ever did. I can see that I've failed my family. I can see that I've betrayed myself.

But I was loyal to Tom. I was always loyal to Tom. That's what matters, even if everything else in my life was a lie. I was loyal to Tom. Even if now he has forgotten me.


End file.
